Today's Reading
"What the bloody 'ell you barking at?" The man in the doorway—Howe, judging by his stocky build and battered stovepipe hat—scanned the mews and darkened back garden.
Drake ducked his head further into his high collar and willed Howe's gaze to pass him over.
Howe stepped forward. "Bleeding fool mutt." The dog drew back, letting out a mournful yelp.
Don't you bloody dare. Drake moved quickly, darting closer while Howe's back was turned as he shouted invectives at the canine.
He was making such a ruckus that a servant poked his head out from the back door of a townhouse abutting M's. Drake shooed the man back inside with the wave of his hand.
Then he seized the moment to sprint toward Howe, who finally heard his approach and turned to face him. The thief fumbled with his pocket, but Drake had his own revolver up and pointed at the man's face.
"I wouldn't if I were you," he told the thief quietly.
In the light spilling from the open door, Howe's face turned ashen.
They'd met before, but Howe had somehow never noticed Drake's shadowing presence over the last weeks. He'd been too busy finding marks and emptying pockets.
"How many are inside?" Drake held the revolver steady.
Howe's gaze had locked on it, and fear seemed to freeze him in place.
The dozen or so crimes Drake had witnessed while following Howe would justify hauling him off to jail, but the thief was smart enough to know that the blackmail scheme was the worst of it because it involved the royal family. Few threatened the power of the Crown and walked away unscathed.
"Only me," he finally mumbled.
"Try again. How many are inside?"
"'E'll kill me," he whispered. The man seemed to reduce in front of Drake's eyes. His shoulders slumped, and he bent his chin down as if to protect his neck. "One word and 'e'll slit me throat."
"Perhaps you should choose your friends more carefully, Amos." Drake had always suspected that M chose a man as rough-edged as Howe to do the dirtiest work. To threaten and perhaps take fists to whoever menaced their plot, but Howe was proving to be a rather flimsy thug.
"We'll go in together, shall we?" He flicked his weapon toward the back door, glancing up to make sure there were no weapons pointed at him from the windows at the back of the house. Most were curtain-covered and not a wink of light could be seen. Any watcher worth his salt would know darkness gave him a better view.
Howe approached the door, pressed a hand to the frame, and then seemed to recover a bit of his confidence. He pivoted to face Drake and then took a wide-legged stance, his sizable arms crossed. "You want in, you'll 'ave to go through me."
A little bravado had entered his tone, and the man would be a formidable opponent if it came to fisticuffs. But one of them was armed.
Drake lowered his gun a few inches, pointing it at the thief's chest. "A bullet will go through you a lot quicker than I could. Care to risk that?"
Cowering near the step, the guard dog let out a low, ominous whine. Howe glanced behind him as if he'd heard something that Drake couldn't. "Move aside." Drake took two steps closer. "Now."
The dog stood and emitted one brave bark as Drake approached.
Howe gave a stubborn shake of his head. "I let you in, I'm as good as dead in the grave."
He was stalling.
Then Drake heard why.
A man's voice rang out at the front of the house. Then the rustle of traces and the clatter of horse hooves.
...
